Such a Disappointment
by YogaForever
Summary: She whispered in repetition, tears rolling off her face, the sunset light glowing on her baby boy’s skin. A baby boy that could’ve been so much had she raised him better, “. . .such a disappointment.” Scourge Fic


"_Well, Mother, what the war did to my legs and to my tongue_

_You should have raised a baby girl, I should have been a better son_

_If you could coddle the infection_

_They can amputate at once _

_You should have been . . ._

_I could have been a better son._"

-My Chemical Romance, "Mama"

**Such a Disappointment**

_By: Sweet Valentine Vampire_

The grounds were barren and the wind blowing overhead sent a chill like Death up the spines of all who saw him. There brand new, self-asserted King of Moebius.

He was too young for his position, in most of the elders' opinions, but they did well to keep their mouths shut and shoulders straight . . . fearing what their King could do to them.

Silver glinting in sunset light and light as a feather was the crown adorning his head, dark-set were the shades covering smug icy eyes. A smirk like a con-artist who'd won out was etched across his face.

All who saw him knew who he was, who he used to be, instantaneously. . . .

"Scourge . . ." and the King was stopped cold in his tracks at her voice. A flicker of fear and rage blew like cold breath on his neck. "Or . . . rather, you prefer 'King' Scourge. Is that right?" Her voice asked again.

The evergreen hedgehog was in no mood for this and so he crossed his arms and turned to face the middle-aged woman with revered arrogance.

"What's goin' on, Ma?" He asked sarcastically, arching a brow at the deep blue female in front of him.

She shook her head in response, disappointment plain on her features.

Scourge bristled, his fingernails dug into his arms and his teeth clenched. He glared at her, "what?" He demanded in a breathy voice painted by anger.

"Are you quite proud of yourself?" She asked back. She stood a little straighter. Somehow, even though he had grown taller, she still seemed to look down at him.

"Are you?" He retorted, glare still present but sarcasm ringing in his tone.

"I'll be proud of you when you do something worth pride, darling." She replied serenely, the sincerity on her face was _suffocating_. Her words were spoken like a simple truth saying that the sky was blue.

"I could build you a bouquet with one of each different flowers on the planet and you'd still say they weren't fresh enough," Scourge spat, his eyes only narrowed further. His shoulders hunched lightly and the angry disregard on his face was frightening to most, but not her. "I don't expect you to ever be satisfied." He informed.

She gave back, "and I never expected you to be able to satisfy me."

"Good. We know where the other stands now." Scourge turned away from her, ready to never even speak to her again - look at her again. He was leaving to conquer that wuss, Sonic's world.

"Running away again, are we, darling?" He heard his mother's voice chime. She sounded quite pleased with herself. The self-appointed King felt like gasoline someone was threatening to throw a match into.

"What the hell does 'again' mean?" He whipped around to face her, his murderous glare doing nothing to penetrate the icy cool exterior that was her stance, her sickeningly calm smile.

"You've always been such a whiny boy, so worried about what everyone else thought of you," she replied in disdain, looking at him with no regard of importance. "Always trying to 'prove' yourself. Prove yourself to whom, darling?" She looked at him expectantly.

He glared at her, trembling lightly with rage. That ever present match was dangling an inch over his temper.

"Nobody." He retorted. "I don't need to prove myself to nobody. I'm better than they are without even trying." He grit his teeth, his steely eyes set.

"And how so? Because you're a violent little child seeking revenge against a man he should've been able to call 'Daddy?'" Her response was coated by a sneer she wore and a light chuckle she didn't reveal until the words left.

Scourge rolled his eyes, "if I was so worried about that," he crossed his arms and smirked. "Then why the hell did I just say I didn't care what other people think?"

"That's not what you said," she reminded, wagging a finger like he'd messed up a spelling test. Reprimanding a small child with her condescending stare. "You told me you don't need to prove yourself, darling . . . You never said you didn't care what they thought."

Scourge gaped at her, and then shut his mouth and glared. "Same dif," he claimed. "It makes no difference. I don't care what anyone thinks."

"Then, why are you doing this?" She cocked her head to the side, mock concern knitting her brows. "Why are you going on this crazed power-trip?" Then she looked at him with the same disappointed, furious disdain she always did. "My God, you were less difficult as a child and that's saying a lot, young man."

"No one forced you to raise me." He pointed out smugly, never letting her break him down.

"Oh, yes they did," she nodded in argument. She looked away from him just because she couldn't stand to see his face anymore. "Your father had an important position and if I were to abandon you then, do you know what kind of flak he'd receive?"

"You were such a horrible child!" She yelled at him, tears dancing in her eyes. She lay her tiny hands over her heart as if it might give out. "Why couldn't you do anything right? You were always going on and on about your father and wishing he'd look at you without laughing . . . you took for granted a mother who could've loved you!"

"I was a little kid!" Scourge retorted, voice breaking. He shrugged his shoulders. "What the hell was I supposed to think, 'hey, at least my mom who's always insulting me loves me!' Is that it? Should I have been telling myself that?"

Scourge swallowed and glared down the little woman and his teeth gnashed together as thoughts and ideas of bringing her pain raced through his mind. He forced his fists into his jackets pockets and took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry I caused you so much trouble . . ."

"You are not!" She screamed back. "I could have had a life, I had friends! But no, there you were - always crying and needing something from me. You were such . . ." she was beginning to sob. "Such a difficult child. And now!" She jabbed an accusatory finger at her boy. "Now . . . ! You bring dishonor on your father's name. Shame on you - !"

"Should I have been more like you?" Scourge finally screamed back, his eyes murderous, his own finger jabbed at the air in front of her. "Should I have always been thinking how much easier life would've been without someone I _gave birth to _and was _automatically _attached to!?"

"We were far from attached . . ." She whispered, he ignored.

"Should I have blamed all my problems on another person?" He waved his arms in the air to emphasize, staring down his mother like a killer and watching as she crumbled beneath his glare - how she became filled with rage at his words.

Her anger was nothing compared to his.

He felt like he was a fuse . . .

. . . Ready to blow.

"I should have been more like you, I guess!" He shrieked up at the sky. He threw his fists to his sides and cocked his head as he twisted his glare into her sky blue eyes. He smirked villainously at her rivers of tears washing away at her sickly pale face. "I should have - for all my life - blamed the one person I was supposed to automatically love."

A glare melted away and left behind pain-filled eyes, shoulders slumped and a hand was extended pathetically, their owner, a King only in the minds of those who feared him was speaking to his mother now in hopes of something he couldn't identify.

Scourge said, "I love you, Ma." He extended his hand further. "Loved you, anyways."

Bernadette, his mother, gaped at him and she looked at his hand - his offer of a new relationship.

And then, her eyes narrowed and she did something Scourge didn't quite expect, but wasn't quite surprised by . . .

She slapped away his hand.

Scourge gasped under his breath and his eyes visibly widened in their shock at her actions.

Bernadette bore her teeth at her son, nostrils flaring furiously, she glared at him as if he were her son's killer when he was the child, instead.

"I don't love you . . ." She admitted and a single tear ran down her face. She added, her tone broken, "and I never did."

Scourge felt something sharp stab him in his heart. Like a cold clock-repair-man's fingers. It hurt so much because she knew how he ticked . . .

"You're not my son . . ." She told him wholeheartedly, fear ran up her back to finally admit these words to more than just her mind. "I gave birth to you, but I don't know who you're supposed to be. All I know is, you can't be mine. You aren't mine. And you never will be."

Scourge's lips would've been screaming had his mouth not been dry . . .

And maybe tears would come if his vision wasn't blurry . . .

To say this didn't hurt was a lie . . .

But how could he feel pain when he was so numb?

Bernadette smirked, looking down at her son with deprecation. She became completely cold at that moment and straightened herself out, slapping herself mentally for such an obscene outburst. Admittedly, it felt good to get those things off her mind.

"Did . . ." Bernadette blinked and her eyes zeroed in on Scourge again.

His hands were trembling . . . He was trembling -!

She noticed that and the tears that were building in his cold blue eyes, those eyes that always cried as a child were tearing up again and she didn't know if she could restrain herself from hitting him into submission, demanding him to keep his tears back - grow a spine, act like a man - so on and so forth.

His words snapped her out of contemplation.

"Did you come to me just to tell me that?" Her baby boy was asking her, like his body - his voice trembled. "Just to say you don't . . ." his voice gave out. He audibly cleared his throat and looked into her eyes with glassy blue eyes, all it'd take was one word to break the dams keeping tears back in his eyes. "To say you don't love me?"

She took a step back from him and nodded.

She was ashamed at him and . . . without a reason she could find . . . she was ashamed of herself.

And why was that brat in so much pain right now?

"Oh." Her baby boy was saying. He stepped away, too. He turned so that she stared at his profile. He put his hand to his mouth and his eyes widened before his eyebrows crushed them pathetically, burying his expression in pain. Tears welled up so fast.

He wrapped his other arm tightly around his stomach, hunching like his whole body hurt. Like the very power of her words had just now sunk in. As if all those words stood on his breaking back like a weight he couldn't carry anymore.

He breathed out the realization, muffled by his hand,". . . oh."

He was in such obvious, heart-wrenching pain. Why did her own heart throb right now - like she wanted to run to him and wrap her arms around him? This child was forced upon her by a husband whom wanted only an heir . . . She didn't love him. He was the cause of her every misfortune and yet her heart throbbed and pulsed and beat with the . . .

. . .Pain?

There was pain in the air, and it took the form of her only son's voice.

"But, Ma . . . Mama . . . Can I ask you a question now?" He begged as he turned around completely. She saw that he hugged himself tightly, his body bending like he'd break if his holding arms weren't forcing him to stay together now.

"If you . . ." she choked. Why did his tears suddenly make her want to cry? "If you must."

"Okay . . ." he whispered and then trembled so hard - sobbing silently so she couldn't say a word. He fell to his knees. Like her disdain was a twisting hand on his mind that had finally broken away his pretentious facade and revealed her baby boy beneath. "Okay," he said again. "If you've really secretly hated me for so long . . . then why . . ."

He looked over his shoulder, tears streaming down his cheeks and his crown askew on his forehead. He glared into her and demanded in a tortured whisper, " . . . Why did you take so long to tell me?"

She was stabbed by shock at the question.

He wasn't going to beg for her approval?

"Why would you pretend to love me - I knew you didn't like me that much 'cause you were always complaining, but you always said you loved me. Why?"

He wasn't surprised?

"Why would you do that to yourself? Pretend to love someone you don't?"

He just wanted to know . . . to know why?

"Because," she croaked and nearly coughed as she cleared her suddenly dry throat. "Because I could never bring myself to . . . I was trying to make you better, or . . . I was . . ."

Her son's bark of a laugh brought her out of her search for reasons. For excuses.

She stared, shocked and lost, with widest eyes.

He was still holding himself, and tears still streamed freely from his eyes and he still looked hurt beyond repair and he still looked as if waiting for her to kick him again while he was down. But . . .

But something about his smile . . .

Something about his smile still proclaimed that he was the winner here.

Something in his laugh and . . .

Never, in all her life, had Bernadette wanted to slap her son so hard.

His laugh was over and he smirked at her arrogantly, like she'd never taken an inch from his ground.

"Aw, Ma . . ." he crooned at her and the tears welled in his eyes again despite the sarcasm of his voice. "I knew I could've been a better son, but . . ." and the sorrow was overwhelming on his features. "Was I really such a disappointment?"

She was shocked beyond words that tears fell from her eyes.

She was a horrid mother.

He was a bad kid but that was only because she was such a terrible mother.

It was _her_ fault.

All along, it was_ her _fault.

She wanted to love him, she really did, but she was so cold and detached. So detached that she . . . She never loved anyone but herself.

Had she?

She whispered in repetition, tears rolling off her face, the sunset light glowing on her baby boy's skin. A baby boy that could've been so much had she raised him better, ". . . such a disappointment."

_The End_

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A/N: Hello, and thank you for reading my second fan fiction. Just like "I Don't Need Anyone" this story is about the tragically misunderstood and untold past of Scourge the Hedgehog. He's an awful little bugger, but it's not entirely his own fault.

Unlike "I Don't Need Anyone" this story also shines a bit into the thoughts and feelings of Scourge's mother. The other story only told from Scourge's standpoint.

After writing about Scourge's thoughts and feelings about his father, it made me think - "well, it takes two to make a kid, yeah? What about his mom?"

. . . And I wrote this.

I used my most favorite band of all time, My Chemical Romance's song, "Mama" as inspiration. Because, while the story the song tells is not the story this fiction tells the feeling is mutual, in ways. Please give it a listen and understand my inspiration. But, do NOT flame me on the basis of being a My Chemical Romance hater. I'd really like to know why so many people give that band shit.

Yours sincerely,

Sweet Valentine Vampire


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